Rin: Specters of an Atelier
by BigDoktor
Summary: It's been ten years since Hisao Nakai last saw Rin Tezuka, who left Yamaku Academy - and him - to pursue an art career in Tokyo. One day he gets a call from an old friend and receives some very unexpected news. The subsequent events force Hisao to confront the demons of his past. M for language, violence, adult content. Short story.


_My first serious stab at fanfiction. A bit of background, this is a noir romance/mystery/thriller following Rin's neutral (read: bad) ending, where she leaves Hisao to go to a big art school in Tokyo. I got the idea to explore the darkest timeline (for you Community nerds) in cynical noir fashion. There will be major spoilers for Rin's route in this story. Read at your own risk._

_I feel confident enough to post the prologue, as I fully expect to make a lot of changes to the story as I go along. However, I think the prologue won't suffer too much damage, so here we go. Feedback is much appreciated, as it will help me shape the final product. TELL ME WHAT I GOT WRONG! Thank you._

_To enhance the mood, I suggest looping the YouTube video of the Max Payne 3 piano themes and equipping it with Rainymood._

**Prologue: Splotches Against a Canvas**

A harsh breeze was causing the naked branches overhead to rattle like wooden windchimes. It was a somewhat familiar feeling, though not exactly in a good way. It was late winter, and around this time of year, it seemed that whenever it wasn't snowing, it was raining. That's probably not true, but I hated the rain, and it never seemed to get the hint. Lucky for me, I wasn't waiting on anybody out here in the blistering cold, so I had no excuse not to escape into the shelter of my apartment building.

Not that the lobby of the building was any better. You could tell how much care it was given by the peeling wallpaper and tile flooring that was missing a few squares. The sight was complete with a faint musky smell that could have very well originated from a homeless tramp pissing in the corner. Someone tried to brighten the dingy room by hanging a painting on the far wall. At least I think they were trying to brighten it up. For all I knew the painting served to make the room even more depressing than it already aspired to be. I hated art. I never understood it, not that I ever bothered to. It looked nice, but at the end of the day, it was just splotches against a canvas.

I knew a painter once, in high school. Rin Tezuka. She was a great artist, or at least I thought so. I never saw the meaning behind those abstract paintings of hers, but at least they looked nice.

Rin.

There was a point in my life when I thought I loved her. She ended up leaving for a big art school in Tokyo, and I never saw her again. She was a dandelion that flew away in pieces when the winds changed until there were no petals left. Come to think of it, she hadn't even crossed my mind in years. Why was I thinking of her now? She was a lifetime ago, when I was just a dumb kid looking to get his rocks off on any girl who looked at me. I guess my mind was on edge. I was too cold and too sober to linger here any longer.

I made my way to number 106 and opened the creaky door to the rathole I called "home." Not to upstage the classy lobby downstairs, my apartment was as shitty as I must have looked right now, and I was a regular sideshow of stubble and leather. The rain outside threatened to burst through the window like a crazy ex-girlfriend who owed you a few kicks to the groin. I took my coat off and tossed it aside, taking a seat next to a bottle of whiskey and an empty cup already splayed out for me to enjoy. I lit a cigarette and poured myself a glass. One vice in one hand and another vice in the next. I was a dime store Philip Marlowe. Instead of being some hotshot hardboiled detective, I was just a lowly claims adjuster working for an insurance company in the city. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get by on, and it was something I managed to fall into a few years back. I was never really as ambitious as I could have been, and although my high school science teacher encouraged me to go into his field, I couldn't imagine myself now focusing on anything besides the science of how piss drunk I could get before passing out.

A sharp ringing from across the room interrupted my meandering thoughts. Someone was eager about calling me. My phone rarely ever rang save for the times my boss called to bitch about my paperwork; however even he wouldn't have the gall to ring at this time of night. Setting my two friends down on the table, I stumbled over to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Hisao? Is that you?"

A voice I hadn't heard in quite some time. It was lacking the usual bubbly quality, but there was no mistaking its owner. An old friend.

"Emi? To what do I owe the pleasure of this late call?" My words came out a little harsh, but already I felt a headache coming on.

"I'm sorry, it's just that-" She cut herself off. I had no idea what this was about, but her voice sounded more grounded than I remember. I rubbed my forehead above my eyebrows. Let me get back to my drink, already.

"Are you sitting down?" Her voice betrayed a hint of concern.

"Why?"

"Can you please sit?" I was getting nowhere with this girl. I hadn't spoken to her in years and out of the blue she calls me up and starts giving me orders like we were in high school again. She was definitely preparing to give me bad news, and remembered my rare condition before she delivered.

Arrhythmia. It once was a strange, foreign word, but now it's sewn itself onto me. It would have defined me if the booze didn't get there first. In any case it could give me a heart attack if provoked well enough. In my current state, I was more prone to one than I used to be. However, I wanted this conversation to end already and sitting down wasn't going to make things go faster. Arguing with her wasn't going to help, either. Outside, I could hear the rain letting up.

"Yeah, I'm sitting. What's going on?"

"We got a call at the school today. Hisao…it's Rin. They found her in her apartment this morning."

"Wait, what?"

Maybe it was her not-so-straightforward way of speaking, or maybe it was the whiskey buzzing in my head, but it took me a while to realize what she was saying. Consequently, her next words hit me like a ton of bricks I never saw coming.

"Hisao, Rin is…dead."


End file.
